Teen Ink

   Dry Thinking

I have no thoughts,
no memory, no thinking,
blank,
empty as an open canister
of tennis balls.
Grayness of the air,
the overcast sky drifts
through my eyes,
cloudy are my
answers.

Wandering, waiting for
a trickling thought,
stuck on a word,
dangling on the tip of
a thought, slipping past
creating a sentence.
Relief; passed by the
tyranny of the question as
it vanishes
only to torment the other
students.

by R. B.,
Congers, NY